Feel the Burn (Dragon Kin #8)(28)

Reaching over, Annwyl yanked the blade from the scabbard Marina Aleksandrovna had at her side and raised it over her head.

Kachka and Elina ran down to the lake shore, throwing themselves between Annwyl and Zoya just as Morfyd the White caught hold of Annwyl’s raised hand and attempted to yank the blade from her while Talaith tried to drag the woman back from behind.

And there, standing serenely by the lake, not moving—not doing anything—was Dagmar Reinholdt. The Beast, she was called by her own Northland kin.

Those cold, grey eyes locked with Kachka’s and she knew the cow would not intervene.

“Honestly,” Kachka said to her sister in their own language, “you f*ck one warlord’s nephew and she never gets over it!”

Desperate, because Annwyl seemed really intent on cutting off Zoya’s head, Kachka grabbed Annwyl by the face and yelled, “Annwyl! The Iron Dragon King is here! He is here at Garbhán Isle! You must go talk to him!”

That’s when they finally had Dagmar Reinholdt’s attention. “Gaius Domitus is here?” she asked, still dry on the lake’s edge.

“Yes,” Kachka replied, her hand continuing to grip Annwyl’s face, afraid to let her go. “He was being held captive by a priestess of Chramnesind’s cult.”

Dagmar stepped closer to the water, her eyes now wide behind those little bits of glass she wore. “What? Are you sure she was a Chramnesind priestess?”

Kachka glanced at the Northlander. “She was until I took her head and released the king.” She looked back at Annwyl. “Now he needs a royal to talk to, Blood Queen. That is you. You need to go see him.”

Annwyl’s eyes narrowed, finally locking on Kachka’s face. “Are you lying to me?”

“When have I ever given enough shit to lie? To you or to anyone?”

Annwyl took in a deep, long breath, let it out, and nodded. She pulled away from the women trying to control her, tossing the sword back to Marina. While the women moved back to the lakeshore to wait for her, Annwyl washed Zoya’s blood off her face, arms, and hands. When she was done, she came back to shore and grabbed her clothes.

As she pulled them on, she stared down at a still-bleeding Zoya. When she had her boots and leggings on and her shirt tossed over her shoulder, she informed Zoya that, “If you talk about my son again like he’s a horse to be auctioned off, I’ll cut you open from * to chin. Understand me?”

Zoya made an unsettling gagging sound and nodded her head, but it seemed enough for Annwyl. Without another word, she disappeared into the trees.

Dagmar walked over to Kachka and asked, “Tell me, Kachka Shestakova, why are there so many Riders now in this territory?”

“Ask your queen.”

“I’m asking you.”

“I tell you nothing.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

Kachka reached for her own sword, but Elina caught her arm and stopped her.

“Let it go, Dagmar,” Morfyd implored. She was crouching down by Zoya, examining her wounds. “I’ll need your help—and, Talaith, don’t go.”

“My daughter—”

“Can wait.

“Fine. What do you need?”

While Morfyd rattled off a list of herbs and things that she needed the Nolwenn witch to retrieve for her, Zoya reached out a bloodied hand to Kachka.

Kachka grabbed it and knelt down beside her fellow Rider. She really didn’t know what she’d expected Zoya Kolesova to say, but it definitely wasn’t, “The Southland Queen . . . is . . . magnificent.”

Kachka’s head briefly dropped, then she looked back at the rest of her team. They all knew, in that moment, that they would never get rid of Zoya Kolesova. They were stuck with her.

Chapter Nine

Gaius found a kind servant who got him some clothes that actually fit his human frame and then offered him some food. All that meat he’d eaten earlier had worn off and someone had taken the bear away, so he’d happily sat down at the table to enjoy some Southland stew.

As he dug in, Queen Annwyl entered the Great Hall. Her hair was wet and, in theory, she should be freezing to death in this weather, but she didn’t appear to be. Since she’d stalked into the Great Hall, Gaius knew immediately the human queen was livid. Zoya must have made her demands about the boy. But Gaius wasn’t surprised to see Annwyl alive and well and seemingly unharmed. The woman could and would fight anything. She used her rage the way the rest of them used their dragon flame—as a lethal weapon that cleared everything out of her way.

Gaius didn’t bother to call out to the queen. He’d see her in due time. Perhaps after he’d spoken to Dagmar Reinholdt or Bram the Merciful first. Besides, in the years he’d known Annwyl the Bloody, worked with her, fought beside her, she had never remembered him. Each occasion she saw him, it was as if she were meeting him for the very first time.

In the beginning, that had insulted him greatly. But eventually it had become so ridiculous, he didn’t bother to get upset anymore. Aggie, however . . . she always got upset. Greatly.

“Talan!” the queen barked once she was in the middle of the hall.

“Mum!” her son called back. Then he appeared at the back of the hall and ran to her, lifting her up in a big hug and swinging her around. “I’m so glad to see you!”